In My Remains
by clairissazeniarosele
Summary: It was too much to ask to meet his apprentice in a normal fashion, whatever that might be. In the crazy life of Van Rook, nothing is ever normal, specifically the people who choose to follow him everywhere. (Not shippy, and with unspecified, noncanon characters)


In My Remains

Only the day after being given a new assignment, my person arrived at this shining city. My reputation forced me to uphold the common customs of a mercenary; to be quick and efficient. To become familiarized with the surrounding terrain, an exploration was in order, I believed, simply for the case of a quick escape. It was only natural not to expect meeting my future apprentice on this travel.

"B-but, sir, I don't have any money…!"

The man licked his lips hungrily. "Then I suppose you'll have to stay with me until you can pay off your debt."

The boy looked about ready to protest once more when I stepped forwards and handed the man a collection of money. "Surely this is enough to cover whatever damages this boy has brought upon you?" The disgusting fat man's eyes opened wide and he flipped through the bills before shoving them into a wallet that my sharp eyes picked out in his pocket.

How simple.

Just the way I liked it.

Not wanting to be exposed to such a disgusting smell any longer- if greed had a smell, it would be that; the odor of rotting produce and charred flesh- I turned to step away quickly. Since I had last checked, I had only two feet, rather than four, and so was a little surprised, but not particularly concerned, when I heard an extra set fall in time with my steps.

Having expected to be trailed, that in itself wasn't shocking, but what was an interesting twist in the tale was that the person was so horrible at trailing; I could hear them as if they were standing right next to me. Snuffling and shoving their way down dirty streets. The sound of their shoes tapping against the ground that had recently been snowed upon, leaving a white blanket covering the ground, also sounded smaller than the average hit-man sent to finish me off.

It didn't take a genius to realize that it was most likely the young boy I had paid out previously. I did not expect a hit-man following my person at the current time, anyway, since a mask was generally used to hide my identity in combat.

I turned down an alley that appeared to be used infrequently, if judging by the lack of mud and sludge sullying the crisp white, and quickly had the troublesome boy caught. "What are you doing, boy? Shouldn't you be playing with your friends, rather than following someone who could cause you troubles unimaginable?"

The child struggled to get out of my grip before going slack. "I just wanted to thank you, 'cause that guy was creepy… and yeah. But how did you know I was following you?"

"You are approximately as stealthy as a vacuum cleaner."

"What? I'm not even an animate object?" the boy demanded, upset at being called such a thing.

"If that is all, then I shall be leaving." I turned without a second thought, but the brat called out once more for me to wait. "I told you before, if you continue to trail me, you will be put into attention by those crueler than you can imagine. Go find your parents like a good little boy."

"My parents are dead."

I beat back the feelings that were threatening to break through. Somehow this child was drawing out the emotions I had so carefully hidden when I had been drawn to become a mercenary. "Grandfather, grandmother, cousin, uncle? Aunt who likes cheese?" I rattled off callously. I did so hate children, after all.

"I want to stay with you. Because you're awesome!"

As much as my ego was tickled pink by the praise of being called 'awesome', I was not, nor would I ever be open to the idea of carrying a child with me. "I am not as excellent a person as you seem to believe I am, little boy. After paying him, I quickly refunded myself, with more on the side."

"So you pick pocketed him?"

"If you must put it so crudely, then yes. I pick pocketed him." The young child let out another exclamation, clearly showing the reputation I was building up in his mind. Children were so foolish.

"Mister, before you leave, what is your name?"

I gave him a hard stare. "Van Rook."

"'Van Rook'?" the boy repeated. "That's a strange name. Is that your first name or your last name?"

"It is my surname, if you must continue to pry."

"It's your 'sir name'?"

"My last name," I corrected.

"I'm Doyle!" the little boy announced proudly. Without giving any acknowledgment that I had heard him, my feet led me back towards the opening of the alley, and I left without hesitation. I find myself often hating kids, especially those such as this certain child.

x

Rolling my left shoulder to stretch the tenseness and strolling out of the decimated hovel, it was surprising seeing the appearance of a familiar face. Jerking my chin in the direction of the hut I had exited, a smooth threat was given.

"I could care less what you did to those weaklings," the man laughed. "You know what's interesting, though? There's some kid who knows your name and your face walking around here. What have you been doing lately?" he asked slyly.

With a disgusted face and fists clenched, my answer was, "Certainly not what it is you believe me to have done."

The irritating smirk was never wiped off of the man's face. "Of course, of course. But wouldn't it be a shame for someone to pick that boy up? Especially with the information he has. I didn't think you would let anyone who saw you leave alive. He must be special, huh?" A hard glare was sent his way. "Yes, yes, I know. They took him to the pier downtown. They had some pretty nice rope with them, so I wonder if they were going to do some bondage torturing…"

Before the man's fantasies could run off any further, I began walking away with a sigh.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, where's my pay for the information?" the man asked, irritated.

In return, he received both a dry look and a dry answer. "I believe it is you who owes me."

He firstly attempted to look cross, but then snorted and waggled his finger at my back. "You win this round, Leonidas, but I'll get you eventually, hear you me!" I inclined my head slightly to allow him knowledge that his message had been delivered, not bothering to look back, since I was perfectly aware he had already disappeared back into the surroundings. A skillfully horrifying man indeed.

In minutes, the pier had come into sight and with it the dreadful feeling that I would never be able to rid myself of the little pain, Doyle, even though I clearly came here simply to protect my own identity. There is, of course, a reason I wear a mask, as there was one for everything I do.

"I would advise you to let the boy go."

The fools who thought that brat would be of use to them skittered back nervously, before the stereotypical confident leader strode forwards. "You should know well that will not happen. He will be much more open than you are, I think." A cruel smile curled his mouth.

"I'm sorry, sir, I got caught!" Doyle whined, trying to shake his bindings away. Children. I hate them, simply so much trouble.

Scanning eyes swept over the captors, and it was noted that there were five men, two armed with machine guns, two with concealed knives, and one with a whip. Their intentions for the boy were quite obvious with the addition of the snake-tongued whip. Quite a cruel instrument.

A second sweep revealed no hidden ploys, yet five seemed a strangely low number to cover the boy. The rest must have been in the previous batch I had served at the recently visited hovel.

Without a single twitch to reveal my thoughts, I allowed my body to surge forwards into the familiar pattern of killing I had grown accustomed to. Dodge, swipe, step back, swipe, dodge, dodge, kick. It was all set in rhythm, a melody almost shimmering in the air from such constrained fighting.

Not wanting to drag out combat, as they seemed to be doing, one was pushed against a wall, head banging against the moldy wood hard enough for him to gather a concussion. A second dropped as I allowed a concealed knife I had pillaged moments before to shoot away from my loose wrist. The three remaining stood their ground, until the leader of the pack dropped as well. They proceeded to scream loudly, and fled out the open door. Once the two were safely away from collapsible and flammable objects, they went down with the sound of an explosion, and a blast of flame. Grenades did come in handy on occasion. However they were very loud, leaving me on a time restriction.

The men now all lay, dead or unconscious. To either way, it mattered not. A thoughtful sound pushed out from my throat. I wonder how long it will take for the police to arrive. Without bothering to step around the bodies, I moved back inside the building and over to the little child who had watched the fight with awe. With a knife swiped earlier during combat, I sawed through the restraints, and the kid sat up, not once looking away from me.

"Are you going to tell me to leave?" Doyle whispered, staring up at me with wide, pleading eyes. To this, a single eyebrow was raised, but left open. "Can I stay?" I sighed, attempting to hide my amusement at the child's innocent antics. His eyes squinted as he appraised my intentions, and upon seeing no resistance, he jumped in line with me, who had started to leave. "I hope you know you're not gonna get rid of me easy!"

I hate kids… They are too easy to get attached to.

* * *

The pain was unbearable. Barely able to think coherently, I only vaguely noticed dismayed cries and a blur of movement. Why is it that they should care, after all the pain I had caused them. On my mind was Drew, the woman that I had thought to love, painfully long ago, but her presence was dimmed by that of my own apprentice, the one who I had come to believe my own son.

My mouth ran without thought, falling easily into the pattern of mask I had drawn around myself, but my eyes flicked to the young man.

Have I trained you well enough? To survive outside the world of mind, one must be quick, one must be fast, one must have wit, one must have beauty. The sense of self preservation, the sense of pride. The ability to fight, the ability to ignore. To survive in the real world, the boy must become a man.

Doyle... _my son_, have I prepared you well enough to press on without asking assistance from those who will give?

* * *

**CZR: **Have I mentioned that I really like Van Rook? xD If not, I do, and wish there was more characterization on him... Anyway, I got this idea in the shower at about four in the morning after pulling an all-nighter. I started writing this about... three days ago, maybe? Yeah, I only just finished it today, because busy. Busy. Finals. Ugh. I do hate school, I really do.

So, as you can see, Van Rook sounds pretty dang smart, because that's just how I see him. I had to constantly rewrite sentences, since I'm used to a very informal way of writing, and that doesn't work for him ;P Well, I hope you liked my version of Rookie and baby Doyle *Heart*

If you didn't catch it, that last time skip was forwards to his death. Yeah. *Cries in the corner forever*

**Zak: **Clairissa doesn't own the Secret Saturdays, or In My Remains by Linkin Park (from which the title was pulled)! Please give feedback, as it makes Clairissa happy, and everyone wants her happy... D: (Or she writes horrible fanfiction about us...!)

**CZR: **Did you notice that random guy in the middle of this story who gives Van Rook information? I don't actually know who that is, but I want to write more of him, he's quite amusing :3

(In other news, ever since I began writing this story, I have been talking in a more intelligent fashion... it's horrible. Van Rook's speech is just too smart for me TT_TT)


End file.
